


Bad Cop, Good Criminal

by hoosierbitch



Category: White Collar
Genre: Authority Figures, BDSM, Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Humiliation, Multi, Orgasm Control, Painplay, Pervertibles, Phone Sex, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 00:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/pseuds/hoosierbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uh. The title and the kink list really say it all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a single-line extra for [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)**kink_bingo**! The squares are: film/photography, authority figures, pervertibles, and phone sex. For the middle square I chose painplay.

“So – I’m a lieutenant?”

“You can be whatever you want to be, El.”

“Huh. Then can I be an admiral instead?”

“There are no admirals in the police force. Or in the FBI, for that matter.”

“If you’re going to be a stickler for realism, then this isn’t going to be any fun at all.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

He nudges Neal’s thighs open another few inches. He groans around the ball gag and has to struggle to keep his balance. His arms are handcuffed behind him – but the cuffs are mostly for show. It’s the ropes crisscrossing his forearms that are going to keep him from wiggling his way out. “I think the suspect’s resisting, lieutenant.”

“Oh,” she says. “You should probably photograph that. For evidence.”

He puts El on speakerphone and takes a picture of Neal kneeling in the middle of the dining room floor. His thighs straining, a bit of drool escaping the corner of his mouth, his shoulders pulled back and his chest pushed forward, his cock erect and dripping with precum. “Bad attitude,” El says, when it gets to her phone. “You should correct that before it gets out of hand.”

“What methods do you suggest, sir?”

She laughs at the title but it’s a dark, dirty laugh that the phone does nothing to distort. “I bet that poor boy thinks we’re going to let him come, Officer. But criminals don’t get to come, do they, Burke?”

“No, sir, they don’t.”

“Make sure he understands that.”

He loves the way that Neal’s breath quickens when he can only breathe through his nose. Loves the panicked rise and fall of his ribs, the flush on his cheeks. He steps between Neal’s spread legs and taps his boot against Neal’s balls, just hard enough to make him tense.

“Up.” Neal lifts himself up quickly. Peter lets him stay that way until his thighs start to shake, taking pictures from every angle. “Now kiss my boot.” Neal has to shift back a few inches and then lean forward for that. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and Peter soaks in each perfect second of it. “Lick it.”

“Is he doing what you ordered?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take another picture. That kind of behavior should be documented.” He has to crouch down to get it all in. Neal’s pink tongue licking up and down the sides of his black leather boots, teasing between the laces, desperately licking whatever part of the rubber sole he can get at. The boots are the only part of the outfit that he isn’t renting. Well – the boots and the nightstick, that is. He’d made a few purchases when El made her plans for San Diego. Maintaining a marriage takes a lot of work. And sometimes, supplies.

“You look really pretty, kissing my boots,” he murmurs, running a hand through Neal’s hair. Neal pauses to rest his forehead against Peter’s foot. “I never said that you could stop. Get back up on your knees.”

“Did he disobey an order?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you better show him what’s so important about showing the proper amount of respect.”

He pushes Neal down until his forehead’s pressed against the carpet and moves to the edge of the room. “What exactly am I supposed to do?” he whispers. El laughs at him. “Honey, if you could see him right now, you’d be overwhelmed too. Believe me.”

“Maybe say that you’ll let him go if he makes it up to you. Give him – what, five minutes? Eight? To try and get himself off, and then you’ll get to punish him if he fails.”

“I have to untie his hands for that. It’ll take a while.”

“Hmm. Well – you don’t have to let him use his hands.”

“What should he use, then?”

“How about your boot?” he looks down at his feet. The leather’s already dry. And suddenly, so is his mouth.

“That – uh. That could work.” He takes a minute to compose himself. To put on the ‘bad cop’ face that Neal likes so much. It’s not hard to get in character. Not when Neal’s bound and gagged and naked and on his knees, completely at Peter’s mercy. It’s not hard to feel powerful. And merciless.

“I’m not a cruel man,” he says, fisting a hand in Neal’s hair and pulling him back up. The move earns him a sweet whine. “So I’m going to give you a chance to redeem yourself.” He gives Neal’s cock a quick stroke because it’s so fucking pretty, hard and red, begging for attention. “If you can get yourself off in eight minutes, I’ll let you go.” Neal’s eyes flash from his own erection to Peter’s face, calculating his odds, trying to figure out the catch. “Do we have a deal?” Neal nods slowly and Peter goes to the table and pulls out a chair. He sits down and makes an effort to sprawl a bit – confident, cocky, in control. Neal will like that. Judging by the shudder going through his body, he does.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Neal looks confused. It’s an adorable look on him – his eyebrows coming together, hints of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, a questioning sound distorted around the black rubber ball in his mouth. “Oh – do you need some help?” Neal nods again. “Okay. Come on over, baby, I’ll give you a hand. Well – a foot, to be more accurate. But you don’t mind – you cleaned my boot off already, didn’t you?”

Slowly, Neal shuffles over to Peter. His knees have to be killing him. When he’s about a foot away Peter holds out a hand and he stops. Neal’s cock is still dripping with precum. His eyes are starting to water. Peter lifts his foot and presses it against the length of Neal’s cock. “Go on, pretty boy. You’ve got six and a half minutes left.”

The tread on the boots is hard. They were designed for rough terrain. There’s no way that it’s anything close to comfortable. He presses down a bit harder and Neal hunches forward as much as his bound arms will let him.

“The suspect’s showing signs of reluctance, lieutenant – ” Neal shakes his head frantically and, slowly, starts to rub his cock against the bottom of Peter’s boot. “That’s much better.”

“Tell me what he looks like,” El whispers. His hand’s sweaty around the phone. He’ll have to borrow Neal’s headset for next time.

“He looks - he looks like he’s not going to make it.” Neal whimpers and tries to speed up. But he’s tired. His thighs were already strained, his knees much be aching, his shoulders are pulled back so tightly. With every thrust the head of Neal’s cock, wet and red, peeks over the edge of the boot. And every other thrust Peter pushes his heel backwards to press harder against Neal’s balls. Neal stops with four minutes still left to go.

“Keep going.” Neal whimpers and shakes his head. “He’s stopped, sir. What do you want me to do?”

“Peter, I just came twice, I have no fucking idea. Or maybe – hmm. Do you think you can kick him?”

“Where?”

“His balls, Peter.”

“Are you – are you being serious?”

“You know he’ll like it.” Peter’s been trying to wrap his head around Neal’s masochistic streak since they started fucking. And it’s not hard, most of the time, not when Neal responds so eagerly whenever Peter gets the balance of pain and pleasure just right. But this is just…his own balls are already aching in sympathy. “You should do it really softly. You have to be really careful not to hurt him seriously. Just a couple of taps.”

“A _couple_?” Neal’s starting to look nervous. Like he really is a con who’s been snatched up for some crime and is doing his best to pretend innocence. Neal’s charming, without a doubt – charming and charismatic and witty. But he’s never, for a second, been able to play ‘innocent’ convincingly.

“Well. He _is_ disobeying a direct order. And you know what con men are like – give them an inch and they’ll redecorate your entire living room.” Peter kind of likes the new curtains, but he’s not going to say anything about that now.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” He puts El back on speakerphone and sets his cell down on the table. “This is your last chance, boy.” Neal half-heartedly attempts to resume his earlier rhythm but gives up after a few thrusts. His cock’s as hard as Peter’s ever seen it before, but the underside is visibly irritated from the friction. “If you want this to stop, all you have to do is shake your head, okay? Do it once for me.” Neal looks even more nervous but he obeys, shaking his head quickly from side to side. “Perfect.”

He’ll probably have the most leverage if Neal stays on his knees – he’ll be able to hit his balls from underneath, use the whole top of the toe of his boot, nice and even pressure. “Stay still, boy.”

He practices first. Neal watches his foot move in slow motion, from the floor up to his balls and then back again. “This is your last chance to back out, convict.” He can see Neal’s throat move as he swallows. He doesn’t shake his head.

Neal doubles over with the first strike. His scream is strangled around the gag, his lungs working in double-time to try and get enough air.“Take the gag out,” El says – she has to repeat herself a few times to be heard, but he’s happy to comply. Neal’s jaw is stiff and his lips are dry but he stays silent after Peter tosses the gag onto the table.

He keeps going. He has to put his hands on Neal’s shoulders to keep him from twisting away or falling over. It’s – it’s not hard, to hurt Neal like this. It’s easier that he thought it would be to stand over Neal’s shaking body and keep on kicking him. It’s just hard to remember to be careful when Neal’s torso is slick with sweat and his eyes are red-rimmed from crying and his cock is bouncing off his stomach with every move that Peter makes. He’s screaming almost constantly through clenched teeth. Always so careful to stay quiet for the neighbors.

He kicks just a bit harder for the sixth strike – it’ll be the last one, he thinks. He kicks just a bit harder and Neal’s scream isn’t muffled anymore and his whole body’s convulsing, he almost shifts out of Peter’s grasp. Peter immediately crouches down to look at his balls, terrified he hurt Neal more than he meant to, and then sees it – Neal’s coming. White come dripping down his cock, body tense and shaking. He's coming.

Peter pushes him back and straddles his hips. He rides out the last of Neal’s orgasm and covers his mouth with his own to keep him quiet. Rubs the harsh fabric of his uniform over Neal’s softening cock (_damn the dry cleaner’s bill_) and fucks Neal’s open mouth with his own tongue. He’s so close to coming himself, in his pants, just from the sight and sound of Neal, sinfully hot, wanton as a whore.

Neal’s practically comatose by the time Peter stops. His eyes are heavy, he looks dazed – he looks well-fucked. Peter gets up on unsteady legs and picks up the phone. “He came without permission, sir.”

“How?”

“From me kicking his balls, sir.” Neal whimpers.

“What a painslut,” El murmurs. “Well. You’ll just have to punish him harder to make sure you’ve made your point, won’t you?” Peter pulls the nightstick out of his belt and taps it against his boot.

“Yes, sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Look at you – no, Neal, don’t move. Just let me look.” He makes sure Neal’s facing at the camera before he takes the picture and then smirks while Neal blinks away the effects of the flash. “You’ve got no self-control at all, do you? Shooting your wad like a fucking teenager.” Neal’s flush is immediate, his cheeks turning a flaming red.

He tries to twist his hips away to shield himself from Peter’s eyes and from the camera – Peter steps on Neal’s hip lightly and keeps him pinned down. Neal’s cock is soft and messy with come; it twitches under Peter’s gaze.

“Do you know why you get in trouble, Neal?” Neal shakes his head. “It’s because you have no impulse control.” It’s a common argument between them. Familiar ground. Neal rolls his eyes and Peter moves his foot from Neal’s hip to his dick. Presses down just a bit and listens to Neal’s bitten-off cry – El loves it when Neal’s vocal. He presses down harder to make sure Neal’s whimper is loud enough for El to hear. With his arms still bound Neal has no leverage, no way to fight back, no hope at all of escaping – but he really does have poor impulse control. He has to try. Every twist of his body presses his cock harder against the rough sole of Peter’s boot and wrings some new sound from his throat.

“The suspect’s resisting again, sir.”

“Am I on speaker phone?”

He turns it off and puts the phone to his ear, shifts his weight until Neal’s grunting and panting, lost in the sensation – too far gone to pay attention to Peter’s conversation. “You’re off speakerphone.”

“I’m so fucking turned on right now, Peter. These pictures are - _fuck_. I wish I was there, but I have to say, I’m kind of getting into this phone thing. Just imagining what you’re doing, filling in the blanks between the sounds you’re making and the pictures – it’s a lot better than the porn the hotel’s got on the TV, I’ll tell you that.”

“What do you wish we were doing?” he feels like he’s in a porno. Like he’s playing a character, like he’s performing, that it’s not about his pleasure. It’s about Neal and El. He likes it this way.

“In my head you’re fucking Neal with the baton. The handle – it’s ridged, right? And you don’t prep him. He doesn’t deserve it. So you just lube it up and fuck him with it until he’s hard again.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Then you take pictures of it. And – and fuck him. Come in his ass and then lick it out of him. Make him come all over himself just from your tongue in his ass, and then make him fuck himself with the baton until he comes again.”

Neal’s crying. He’s got his eyes closed but tears are dripping down into his hair, he’s writhing almost helplessly against Peter’s foot. His cock’s half-hard already.

“I am to please.” The table scrapes on the floor when he pulls Neal off the ground and pushes him face-first onto it. “Stay.” He puts El back on speakerphone and puts the cell next to Neal’s head so that she can listen to him sob.

He leaves Neal there, slumped across the wooden surface, his arms still bound. A bit of come drips off of his cock and onto the floor. He’ll have to remember to clean that up. Or remember to make Neal lick it up. He makes a mental note and grabs the bottle of lube from his belt. It’s the same size as a canister of mace. Neal had made a lot of stupid jokes about the outfit. Was Peter a Female Body Inspector, was that his nightstick in his pocket or was he just happy to see him – that and a slew of other puns, each worse than the one before. Peter knows it’s just because he was nervous, but that hadn’t made it any less irritating.

He slicks up the handle of his nightstick and presses it against Neal’s hole. The baton’s almost two inches in diameter. It looks incredibly hot pushing against the sensitive pink skin. He’d fucked Neal that morning, both of them lazy with sleep, the curtains closed and the lights off. Fucking him again now without prep shouldn’t be a problem.

“Open up, sweetheart.” It shouldn’t be a stretch, only – Neal’s resisting him. Shifting on the table every few seconds, his hands curled into fists. “You fighting me, Neal?” Neal doesn’t say anything but his knuckles are turning white, the tendons in the back of his neck are standing out.

Peter puts the nightstick down on the table and strips off his uniform. Tosses it on the floor and then moves to stand between Neal’s legs. Neal needs him to be a partner, not a master. He bends down so that his chest is pressed against Neal’s back. Until he’s touching as much of Neal as he can reach. “What’s going on?”

He kisses the back of Neal’s neck while he waits for an answer. Glances at the phone as if El could somehow see him, step in and help out, figure out what’s happening. “I didn’t mean to,” Neal finally whispers.

“What didn’t you mean to do?” El asks.

“I didn’t mean to come, earlier. When you kicked me. We can do it again, if you want. I mean – I know this is just a game, but I – I didn’t mean to ruin it for you. I don’t know why I came. I didn’t think I would, I just – ”

“Oh, Neal – ”

“I’ve got this one, El.” He stands up and pulls Neal with him. Turns him around and kisses him softly before he unties the ropes and gets the key for the cuffs. “I didn’t know you were going to come either, Neal. If I had – hey. Neal. Look at me.” Neal’s eyelashes are clumped together. And he’s blinking too fast. He’s better at handling torture than he is at being honest. “It’s my job to make sure I don’t ask you to do something you can’t do.” He has to hold on to Neal’s face to keep him from looking away.

“You’re amazing, Neal. But everyone has limits. I didn’t know how much you’d like what I was doing – didn’t know I’d keep going the way I did. Now we know. And I promise that I’ll be more careful next time.” He hates the look that’s on Neal’s face right now. He kisses Neal against so he won’t have to see it.

“Um – I’ll let you two go, shall I?”

Neal breaks the kiss by shaking his head. “No, El, don’t go yet – we can keep going.” He breath is shaky but his smile’s steady, the movement of his hips against Peter’s is confident. “Come on, Officer. Don’t you need to punish me?”

“Neal, stop it.” His eyes are still red from crying. And it doesn’t look the least bit sexy anymore. “I’m done.”

“But – but you haven’t even come yet.”

No, he hasn’t. And he’s still hard. Having Neal pressed up against him tends to have that effect. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of that myself.”

He tries to step back but Neal won’t let go of him. “Let me? Please?”

“I _can’t_.”

“I’ve got an idea.” They both turn to stare at the phone – Peter’d forgotten she was listening for a minute. “How about we try something a little different? Maybe Neal deserves a reward for good behavior instead of a punishment.”

Neal’s looking back and forth, now, from the phone to Peter’s face, checking his reaction. “But I haven’t earned my reward yet. And you two had more plans, right?”

He still doesn’t get it. “El’s right. You deserve a reward.” Because if he stopped right then, Neal would feel like he’d failed. And that’s not something Peter wants to live with. “So. What do you want?” Neal’s eyes instantly go to the nightstick. “And don’t just tell us what you think we want to hear. What do _you_ want? You know we’ll be happy no matter what.” Neal had wasted a lot of time at the beginning of their relationship doing his best to con them – keep them happy, give them what they wanted, be who they wanted him to be – they’re past that now. Neal just - needs to be reminded, every once in a while.

“I want…I want you to fuck me with the nightstick. And I’m not just saying that, Peter, I’ve been thinking about it ever since you bought it.”

But Peter doesn’t know if he can do it. He doesn’t feel like a character, anymore – he just feels like Peter Burke. Middle-class and middle-aged and a bit out of his depth, with Neal so eager to please and El thousands of miles away. Neal needs him. And, as so often happens when he feels torn between impossible choices, El solves his problem. “Peter, why don’t you fuck him first?”

“I really don’t see how that’ll help, honey.” Neal’s already kissing his way down Peter’s jaw line, though, as if El’s suggestion had been another order.

“It’ll be good for both of you. You can make up your mind about continuing with the nightstick and the roleplaying afterwards.”

He feels like he should protest a little more. But Neal’s kissing his neck, now, and he _is_ still hard, and if both El and Neal said that he should…

“We should take this up to the bedroom.”

“You know what’s in the bedroom?” El’s voice has gone a bit quieter so he picks up the phone to answer.

“What?”

“The computer.”

“And?”

“There’s a webcam on that computer, Peter.”

“Perfect,” Neal decides, grabbing the lube, nightstick, and Peter.

“When did my life turn into a porno?” he mutters when Neal pushes him onto the bed and sets about doing something complicated on the computer.

“When you were lucky enough to meet me.”

“I didn’t _meet_ you, I pursued you. Because you stole a Renoir. And my car.”

“You never proved that. And also, there was a bus stop less than two blocks away, so really, you should be thanking me. Now stop talking shop, you’re killing the mood.” Neal clicks something and all of a sudden El’s face is filling the screen.

“Hey,” Peter whispers. He misses her. Suddenly, painfully, overwhelmingly. He misses falling asleep next to her and waking up with her in his arms.

“Neal – would you please kiss my husband for me?” Neal’s quick to oblige. And it’s sweet, it’s sweet and hot and Neal’s a great kisser – but he misses Elizabeth. “Peter – could you please kiss my lover for me?” Neal’s grin matches his own. He twists them around and stretches them both out on the bed. He kisses Neal on the lips, then the dip of his chin, the curve of his jaw, the hidden space behind his ear.

Neal’s never been good at waiting. He arches his back to press their erections together and wraps his legs around Peter’s waist. “Fuck me.”

He spares a glance for the screen and sees that El’s moved away from the laptop. She’s sitting up against the headboard in some nondescript hotel room with her clothes off and her hand between her legs. He groans at the sight and bites Neal’s neck a bit too hard; the hiss of Neal’s breath is hot against his skin.

He fumbles for the lube and spills a bit too much of it onto his hand. He’s going to take his time opening Neal up, this time. He’s prepared for an argument about it but Neal just smiles at him and spreads his legs. He understands.

One finger’s not really much of a stretch, but he spends a few minutes playing with just one finger in Neal’s tight hole, twisting around inside of him, until Neal’s pushing back urgently, looking for more. The stretch is harder with three fingers. Neal stops moving and just stares at the ceiling, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

He looks over at El every so often. To make sure she’s got a good view of Neal writhing on the bed, to see if she’s come yet. Neal’s pleading with Peter to fuck him by the time El comes – he wipes the excess lube onto his cock and nudges up against Neal’s hole as he watches his wife orgasm onscreen. It really is like porn. Better, though. A lot better. Because Neal’s saying his name over and over, _Peter, Peter, Peter_ and El’s pulling her screen closer to watch them – he puts on a good show for her. Slides in so slowly it’s torture for both of them, and then all the way back out, over and over again until he thinks the slow friction’s going to drive them all mad.

“Fuck him, Peter. Fuck him hard.”

He fucks Neal until the only sound he can hear is the smack of his hips against Neal’s ass and the breath getting knocked out of him in guttural little _huh’s_, surprised and pained.

He loves fucking Neal face to face. Loves watching his face twist in exaggerated expressions, loves watching him lose control. Mostly, he loves the way Neal feels around his cock. Slick and hot and tight – he loves the way Neal looks and sounds but mostly, he loves the way Neal feels.

He fucks Neal until El works herself to another orgasm. He has no idea how many times she’s come already. Her hair’s sticking to her neck and teasing over her shoulders, he wants to brush it back for her but contents himself with sucking a hickey on Neal’s shoulder so that El can listen to him gasp. She cries out when she comes – she’s so quiet, usually, but not now, no, now she’s crying out and writhing against her own hand – he puts his hands under Neal’s thighs and pushes as far inside his body as he can.

He doesn’t know how long his orgasm lasts. When the world stops blurring before his eyes he can feel Neal’s fingers gently running through his hair, he hears El telling Neal what she’d liked most about the pictures. He pulls Neal closer so that he won’t slip out. He’s not ready yet. Neal, however, is still hard. He wriggles his hips as if to remind Peter of the fact. The movement is almost painful on his oversensitive cock.

“So,” El says. “How about that nightstick?”


End file.
